Futile
by DownPoison1019
Summary: You know that feeling where something's wrong and you don't know who to blame or what it is? That's what he was feeling. Will get darker soon...
1. Prelude

A/N: Well, this is my first fic, and I hope everyone enjoys it. It's about Trunks, during the ten year period of peace after Majin Buu and what his life might have been like. Please R&R. I'm trying to keep it more along the lines of emotion, so if the action is somewhat dull, I'm sorry!!! Ok, enough gab. . . here is Futile for your reading pleasure ^_^

Futile -DownPoison1019 All DBZ characters © Akira Torimoya

"Get up, boy!" Trunks' father barked at him. _Dammit, I have a name!_ he wanted to scream. But the wrenching agony in his gut stopped him from doing so. That had been one of the hardest punches he'd ever recieved from Vegeta in all of his ten years. It wasn't nearly as painful as when Majin Buu had hit him, but somehow the effect of a father hiting his own son seemed much, much more painful to Trunks. Memories of the battle for the universe flooded back into his mind like a colossal tidal wave. It was something no eight year old, Super Saiya-jin or not, should've gone through. Even over a year afterwards, it still haunted him.

"I SAID GET UP!" He roared at his groveling son. He was snapped like a twig out of his thoughts as he was jerked upright roughly by the back of his collar.

"You're- choking. . ." He sputtered as the front of his gi dug into his neck. "Dad!" he cried. His father let go of him. Trunks stumbled forward, rubbing his neck.

"What the HELL was that for?!?!" He gasped as he tried to regain his breath and turned to Vegeta. He replied calmly, although the annoyance in his tone was obvious.

"I told you to get up, but you failed to do so," -He cracked his neck loudly- "So i did it myself."

"It would've helped if you gave me a chance to get up," He muttered under his breath. He knew his father had heard him, but he could've cared less. He re-powered up to his Super Saiya-jin state.

The power that surged through his veins was the best high he could get. His lavender hair flared a bright gold, same as his ki flare that shrouded his form. He was the only one of the five SSJ who's eyes didn't turn a bright teal. They stayed aquamarine, the same color of eyes his mother, Bulma, had.

"You ready now?" Vegeta asked, also a SSJ.

"I 'spose. But, you know, for a guy who hated his father for bitching at him all the time, you're doing a real good job of not following in his footsteps," He remarked sarcastically. Vegeta clenched his fists into a tight ball.

"You have no idea what you are talking about, boy-"

"My name is Trunks," He interjected.

"My father was the worst person, second to Freiza. To compare me to him. . . if you weren't my son, you'd be dead right now." He pointed to the door. "Get out. I'm sick of training with you," he added slyly, "Trunks."

"Fine! I neverwanted to train with you in the first place! I never got why you were so paranoid about it!" He punched a button near the door to the gravity chamber, and it opened. As he stepped out, he felt the change of the gravitational pull. He didn't think he'd ever get used to that feeling that lasted less than a second. In a haughty rush, he bumped into his mom on his way to his room.

"Is something wrong Trunks? Your face is all red," She asked.

"Well, your's has grease smudged on it," He pointed to her left cheek. She'd obviously been in the labs in Capsule Corp. Headquarters. She gave him that look that mothers seem to have.

"Haha. . . very funny," She said bluntly.

"The problem is mainly that man I happen to call 'Father' by some unfortunate twist of fate" -He powered down, realizing he was still SSJ- "How you manage to put up with him is beyond me."

"What were you arguing about this time?" She asked.

"Well, he nailed me really hard in the gut, and as I was trying to make sure my intestines were intact, he picks me up by the back of my collar and I start to choke to death. . .nevermind. It's not important enough to whine about." He shrugged and headed to his room.

Sunlight filtered through his curtains that he always forgot to draw back. His bed was a mess, the sheet half off and the fleece blanket stuffed inbetween the wall and his bed, his pillow. . . Hey, where _was_ his pillow? Everything was everywhere, and that was just how he liked it. He threw aside his boots and turned on his radio. Sighing, he flopped onto his bed and buried his face in the soft mattress. As he drifted off into a fitful sleep, his father's word rung in his head. _If you weren't my son, you'd be dead right now. _ Did he really mean it?

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A/N: So, how was it? please, please, please R&R. But, don't flame me. This is only my first draft on my first fic, and I know this chapter was pretty short. I will update possibly by the end of the week, but I've been suffering from major writer's block lately, so if I don't update I'm sorry. Till the next chapter!


	2. Old Memories Die hard

A/N: Thanks for the reviews. . . whoever said I should turn this into a romance, I don't think I'm gonna do that :) *grins* I'm not that good at romances, but thanks for the suggestion anyway. I'll make this a longer chapter, don't worry. I'm sorry the other was so short, but I didn't know how small it was until I actually uploaded it. 

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~ When you see that (~), it means I'm switching to writing from his point of view. I'll try not to get ya too lost. . .hopefully the italic will show up and might help too.

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He awoke groggily with a moan. It was dark outside, he could see through the cracks in his blinds. He slowly turned his head to the digital clock that was glowing from the light of bright green numbers. It was almost four-thirty AM. His stomach growled loudly. 

"Kami, was I really that tired?" Trunks yawned as he ran a hand through his now messed up hair. He sat up on the edge of his bed and stretched his hands above his head with another loud yawn. He cracked his neck a few times before he stood upright. His sensitive saiya-jin ears picked up a low humming sound. His computer was still on. He drug his weary body to the comfy office-like chair and rested his hand on the mouse. Just before he was about to shut it down, an icon caught his eye.

It was his "journal" he'd kept as an outlet for his thoughts after Majin Buu was gone. He was surprised he hadn't deleted it long before now, he wasn't the type to keep things like that on his desktop. With one eyebrow slightly raised, he curiously opened up the file. Of course, he knew what was inside but he couldn't help but feel anxious. He laughed silently to himself as an alert window popped up. Somehow, he'd managed to put a password on the file. The keys made a slight clicking sound as he typed it in. Trunks scrolled down to the beginning of the first entry. As he read, he noticed certain spelling mistakes he'd made. He was only eight at the time, what could he have expected? His fingers crept to the keyboard to correct them, but he stopped himself. These were his feelings, as he saw things when he was younger, and he wasn't going to change them. . .

~_Entry 1: I need to take this out somewhere. I decide it was either a) my dad b) the wall, or c) In writing. My dad would no doubt retaliate, the wall could have severe damage, so this is my only choice. Maybe I'll feel better then. Everything that happened in those few days has been stuck in my head and its driving me crazy! When you have to go from an innocent kid, then suddenly grow up in what seemed like seconds it takes a bigger toll than most people think. _

I can sympathize for Goten, the day he met his dad for the first time in his life, he also has to leave hours earlier than he was supposed to. It also doesn't help much that the planet got blown to Kami-knows-where, and the entire universe's fate hung in the balance. . .

Everyone else had fought against the odds before (even Goten's older brother, Gohan, experienced his first major fight when he was five) but it was us who had to be raised when nothing was happening. But, we had to be saiya-jins and we had to be stronger than most people. ~

Trunks sighed. He often regretted his heritage. Half of him begged to just be a normal kid, and half of him strived on being in a battle. _It only makes sense_, he reasoned, _after all, I am half Earthling. _He pushed it aside and re-focused his attention to the next entry.

__

~Entry 2: I tried to tell Dad why I've been caught up in myself, but he just doesn't get it. He was bred, born, and raised to fight. I was an accident, as he puts it- Trunks paused to laugh at what he'd wrote-_ There's so many times I doubt he even notices I exist, times when I wonder if I was gone one morning, would he care? But then again, rarely there's those times his softer side shines through. Every now and then he might just ruffle my hair or smile at my stupid antics, and I at least know he _accepts _me. Then there's the time before he blew himself up, when he gave me a hug and said he was proud of me, that's all I've ever asked for._

I knew then that no matter how much everyone else may hate him, they'll never know the real him, the him that they never see. Mom doesn't even know everything about him. She's tried to pry out things from his past, but he always says something along the lines of 'It's bad enough I have to live with the memories, why do I need to go blurting it out to everyone?' or something similar. He can be such an arrogant moron sometimes.

I've gone on long enough about my dad now. I think I'll stop for now~

He decided that it would be a good place for him to stop too. He closed out of the file and pushed the chair away from the desk. By now the sun was starting to slowly rise. Trunks looked down. He still had his shoes on, and he also had on his clothes from the day before. He was practically dying from hunger. He needed a shower really bad too. 

"Getting up two hours earlier than I usually do can't hurt too much can it?" He joked to himself. Grabbing clean clothes and a towel off of his doorknob, he headed to the bathroom. After he'd undressed himself, he stepped into the shower and turned the water on so it was freezing. He always did that in the morning. Mainly, because it woke him up. He slowly turned it warmer and let the beads of water massage his face. His father's words still rung in his head. It aggravated him to no end. He'd get his payback, one day when he was least expecting it. . . 

"Why am I debating that? I deserved it!" He said to himself as he turned off the water, "But then again, so did he." He decided to quit pestering himself about it. 

With a renewed source of energy, he walked downstairs to the ground level towards the kitchen. To his surprise, Vegeta was already there. He stopped in the doorway.

"What are you doing here so early?" They asked each other at the same time.

Vegeta answered first, "I thought you knew I was an early riser. . . Although I always thought you slept in until lunchtime."

"Well, I sorta, I don't sleep until lunch!" He sounded like such an idiot. "I mean, I fell asleep yesterday afternoon and I woke up early this morning." He scratched the back of his head lamely.

"Oh," he said. There was an awkward silence as they both stood there. Trunks let out an exasperated sigh and slumped against the wall. His dad was waiting for an apology.

"Fine, I'm sorry I was such a jerk yesterday. I suppose I can go now?"

"I never said you had to apologize, and I never said you had to stay either."

He rolled his eyes in utter stupidity. "Well, you just had that look on your face like you were waiting for me to say something, and. . . well, I guess I did." 

"Sometimes I think you and your mother talk just to hear yourselves," He shook his head and turned away.

"It runs in the family," He smiled, "I'm sure you've heard my grandma go on and on and on and on. . ."

"Too many times." Another silence followed.

"Well, am I allowed to come back to the sacred Gravity Chamber today?" He asked.

"I clearly remember you saying you didn't like training." He looked back at his son.

"I got carried away, I was just really mad at you." Trunks explained very bluntly.

"I could see that." 

"I'll just be in my room for awhile." He turned around and headed right back to where he came from.

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A/N: How was that? I think I got sort of carried away on the whole conversation. I want to know if you think Trunks seems OOC. I hope this is ok. . . I got interrupted a bajillion times last night right when my mind was really set in "Write Mode". To hell with doing dishes! Hire a maid! Sorry, just had to say that. I'll be back with another chapter sometime soon hopefully. Please R&R again. Thanks a million ^_^

P.S: If anyone needs some music to express any sort of crap they happen to be going through, pick up some Staind. They rock. . .prolly number four on my list of favorite bands. Well, ttyl and ttfn.


	3. Untitled

A/N: I'm SO sorry I haven't updated in almost three weeks! Heehee, stupid as I am it totally slipped my mind that vacation was coming up, then after that I had to leave for camp in a matter of days. Add onto that another attack of writer's block, and the fact that the monitor on the computer got blown to Hi Jesus while I was gone. . . get the idea? I'll quit making excuses so you can get to the next chapter, which unfortunately is un-named at the moment, so any ideas for that would be gladly appreciated.

P.S: DISCLAIMER: I do not own the lyrics to "Changes" by 3 Doors Down. Although I may have both of their cd's which contain the lyrics inside the jacket, that is as close as I'll ever be to owning them. 

P.P.S. (or is it P.S.S.???) I just really love that song and had a sudden urge to use it in this chapter, ok? *slaps hand over mouth* Fine, I'll quit jabbering now.

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Trunks punched the keyboard with a hidden swell of fury that had been triggered by another mood swing.

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It's 1:47 am. Why can't I sleep? Why won't I sleep? I haven't gotten more than three hours of sleep a night for the past two months. It's beginning to drive me insane. During the day I get so exhausted I can hardly move, and I get so snappy you might as well label me a crab. Why ME??? Isn't it bad enough I'm already so far from being normal? Now I have to be cursed with sleepless nights?!?!? This is pathetic. I am pathetic. I am worthless. I am that one terd on the sidewalk that a careless dog-owner forgot to clean up. I am the missing person who nobody misses at all. I am nothing.

He leaned into the back of his chair. Yet again, pent up emotions and frustrations needed an outlet. The fact that he was experiencing constant, violent mood swings didn't help. How much longer could he last? If he didn't get a few good nights of sleep he was going to crack. He was already halfway there.

No longer was it just his father's words echoing inside his head, it was his own degrading thoughts and paranoid self and the memories that could not be erased. All of this was bottled deep down inside and coated over with fakeness to muffle the cries. With a yawn, he saved and closed out of his file. Trunks shoved the chair away from the desk and scuttled wearily to his windowsill and sat. The night was clear and cloudless, perfect for stargazing, perhaps even moon-gazing if there was a moon to gaze at.

"Damn Piccolo, why'd he have to blow it up?" He thought to himself. He knew the painstaking answer perfectly well. "Just because we had to be half fucking saiya-jin," He whispered, referring to the tails they all once had as small toddlers. He sat alone, cold, and tired until the sun began to rise into the blackness of night about four hours later. Vegeta would be waking up soon. He had made a smart choice the past two months of to stay in his room until he was sure his father would be in the gravity room. It would be too suspicious and unlike him to wake up at the crack of dawn every day. He turned on the stereo softly. As a new song started into the first chords, he immediately recognized it as a 3 Doors Down song called "Changes".

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"I'm not supposed to be scared of anything but I don't know where I am, wish that I could move but I'm exhausted and nobody understands how I feel. I'm tryin' hard to breathe now but there's no air in my lungs. There's no one here to talk to and the pain inside is making me numb. . . Try to hold this under control. They can't help me, cause no one knows-"

He loved the chorus. Slightly, he turned it up.

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"Now I'm goin' through changes, changes. God I feel so frustrated lately. When I get suffocated, save me. Now I'm goin' through changes, changes. . .

"Feeling weak and weary walkin' through this world alone. Everything you say, every word of it, cuts me to the bone and I bleed. I've got something to say, but now I've got nowhere to turn. Feels like I've been buried underneath all the weight of the world. . . Try to hold this under control. They _can't help me cause no one knows."_

The last guitar riff faded and commercials came on. He sighed and switched it back off. He formed a small ball of ki in his palm and played around with it. First, he tried to see how many different ways that he could stretch it. He threw it from one hand to the other for a bit before he got a bit more adventurous and decided to see if he could control its movement. He tossed it away from himself and tried to make it come back. It didn't. _Shit! _He thought. Just before it exploded against the wall, he blocked it. He decided never to try that in the house again, or it may cost him his head. He could see his mom freak out, and have his forever-happy-go-lucky grandma in the background saying it wasn't that bad, just a giant hole in the wall is all it is. It made him laugh quietly. It was the first time he'd laughed in a while.

* * * 

"Do I have to?" Trunks whined to his mom. He did not want to be a part of her annual get together with her buddies. 

"Goten'll be coming. I thought you were his friend?" She asked, giving him a strange look. He rolled his eyes. He wanted to be left alone. 

"Yeah, but, I dunno. I don't really want to see him," He shrugged. 

"Why? You haven't seen him in almost a year. What's wrong with a few hours?" 

"Can't I tell him I have a flu or something and I want to be left alone in my room?"

"No. That's final." He turned to leave, but his mother added one more thing. "And for Kami's sake, CLEAN YOUR ROOM!" 

"Whatever." He mumbled. Tomorrow at noon. That's when they'd be coming. Why he didn't want to see anyone was a mystery even to himself. He wasn't himself lately, he figured. One of his Dr. Brief's many cats was roaming the hallway. He scooped it up into his arms and scratched it behind its ear. It purred deeply. 

"At least somebody's happy around here," He told it. "I don't know what's wrong with me lately. I'm not sure if it's the whole deal of not getting any sleep or the mood swings that makes me feel so helpless, but it has to be something." He put it back down. Its bright green eyes stared up at him. "I guess I better go clean my room. It's bound to take all afternoon anyhow."

He walked away towards his room, hands shoved into his pockets and his head hung.

Vegeta stepped out from the shadows and watched his son trudge down the hallway. He had heard everything. He knew exactly what was wrong with Trunks. He had been through the same thing more times than he'd prefer to remember. If he was anything like his dad, he could overcome it without assistance. Or he hoped so.

* * *

He looked out the window. Yamucha's new car parked itself by their home. The idea of having a flu when Goten came was now basically a reality. His head throbbed. He paced the room and tried to ignore the pain. He decided to grab a sandwich and eat before everyone else showed up. As he rummaged through the kitchen (where was the package of pre-sliced ham???) Yamucha was just getting inside.

"Hey Trunks!" He waved cheerily. 

"Mmm-Hmm," he mumbled back, and waved half-heartedly. He found that he was no longer hungry. He needed aspirin now. He found the bottle quite quickly, popped three in his mouth, and leaned against the counter. Three was too much, he knew, but at this magnitude of a headache he didn't care at all. His grandma entered the kitchen. 

"The food's almost ready darling. Why don't you come outside?" She said in her cheery too-happy tone. He massaged his temples.

"Because. I. Have. A. Killer. Headache," He spat darkly, "Tell mom that too. I'll be in my room waiting for this aspirin to kick in. Maybe then I'll CONSIDER joining everyone." Obviously, she was not fazed by his tone at all. She just smiled, said okay and left. He swallowed the lump in his throat. What the hell brought on that? He needed to lie down. 

Fitfully, he drifted off into a catnap for a short time. When he woke up forty-five minutes later his headache had almost gone, but his head still throbbed painfully. He sat upright on the edge of his bed. Some sleep was better than none, he supposed. Against what the voices in his head were saying, he went to join everyone else. Hopefully nobody would notice anything was wrong with him. Little did he know, someone did.

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A/N: Whew! Ok! I swear I must have re-written half of that 8 times over! 

I hope everyone liked it! Pretty Please review! Please??? What is wrong with Trunks? Do you think you know? I tried to give little clues (actually, very big ones if you can recognize them for what they are) here and there. I tried to use this chapter to basically set the foundation for things on the following chpts. So. . . all you need to do now is go to the bottom left-hand corner of the screen and click on the little button that says 'Submit Review' and that'd just make my day :D All ideas and comments are welcome! Seeya next chapter!

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	4. All the Things You Can't Ignore

A/N: Can you believe it? I'm not dead! I'm very much alive and finally on track. Thanks to anyone who is still reading this after God knows how long I've done nothing to it. Anyone on Spring Break? I am. Heehee!

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Trunks walked out through the backdoor to find everyone congregated on the Capsule Corp. lawn. Goten tackled him out of nowhere suddenly. He shoved him away.

"Kami, Goten! What was that for? I have a headache ya know, that didn't help it at all!" He hissed. His friend had a hurt puppy dog look in his eyes.

"Geesh, sorry. Don't have a cow," He grunted. Trunks sighed.

"I'm sorry, too," There was an awkward silence that followed. Trunks looked around.

"So Gohan and Videl are an item now, right?" He asked.

"What's an item mean?" He asked innocently.

"You know like they're dating and all that stuff," he explained.

"Um, I 's'pose. You hungry?"

"Yeah," he lied. They meandered to the mountains of delicious food Chi-Chi and Trunks' grandma had made. Normally, he would be tearing into it like Goten was at the moment. Normal just wasn't on his menu (A/N: no pun intended) lately. Half-heartedly he piled food onto his plate and followed Goten to where Videl and his brother sat.

"Hi!" Gohan said, "How's it going?" He asked.

"Fine," Trunks replied. The key to his conversations: just tell people what they want to hear and things will usually work out.

"Have a good summer?" Videl inquired.

"Yeah," he shrugged, spearing a vegetable with his fork.

"You seem so enthusiastic," Gohan chuckled sarcastically.

"He 'ot a 'eadache," Goten piped up through a mouthful of food. He swallowed and said more to himself, "That's weird, Saiya-jins hardly ever get sick," He bit his lip in concentration. How dense could you get?

"Yeah, that _is_ weird," Gohan echoed.

Trunks just shrugged again and shoved a forkful of food into his mouth. It all tasty like putty as he chewed slowly.

Broken out of his realm of concentration by a low growl emitting from his stomach, Goten got up. "I'm gonna get some seconds," he announced.

"And I think I'm done," he too got up and walked away.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Sunlight fleeted through the small cracks in his white cheap-o blinds. He exhaled into his pillow. Another night lost.

"Hey Trunks, it's time to get out of bed!" His mother said as she flipped on the light. "Your room's still a mess! I just told you to clean it up a few weeks ago! Men, I swear. . ." 

Rolling onto his side he peered first at his clock, then to her with one partially open eye.

"But I don't have school for another two hours," He moaned and pulled the covers back over his head, returning to the warm cocoon of cotton sheets. He felt her hand slightly hit his head as she ripped the cover back, bearing the evil-mom-eye.

"I can be ready in a half-hour, I am a super-saiya-jin," he grumbled.

"Super or not, you're getting up right now," She stated firmly.

"Since when do you care what time I get up?!" He spat a little more harshly than he would've liked. She looked somewhat taken aback.

"I've always cared, its one of those maternal instinct things."

"Whatever, just go away," he buried his head under the pillow. Just to add icing to the cake, familiar footsteps trudged upstairs. He stood in the doorway holding charred remains of smoking metal.

"The droids broke, fix them," Vegeta's gravelly voice demanded.

"Get your son out of bed and we'll see about it," she put her hands on her hips.

He stepped around the mounds of junk and hoisted him out of the bed. 

"There," he handed what little was left of her creations to her, "Fix these." He walked back out without another word.

Trunks landed at Bulma's feet. "Why can't I have a tutor or something?" He pleaded, "This is so not fair, when I'm sixteen I'm gonna drop out. . ." He ranted as he got up.

"Quit complaining, you're going anyhow."

"Easy for you to say, you're not half alien."

"But I'm married to the prince of all of them, that's just about as bad," She reminded him.

"Humph."

"I need to go fix these, so I'll see you after school, ok hon?" 

"Mom, just one favor." 

"Yes?"

"Never call me hon again."

She rolled her eyes, kissed him on the check, and walked out. 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Quietly as possible, he slipped into his first period class and sat in the back row. He had science first, for two periods. Impatiently, he twirled his pen in his fingers. As the bell rang, one slick punk with greasy hair and a black Ramones shirt ran to his desk, and their teacher followed him a few seconds later. Wordlessly, she wrote her name on the blackboard. It was a jumble of letters that Trunks assumed a monkey on caffeine pulled out of a top hat.

"Just call me Ms. L," she grabbed a piece of paper off of her desk. She had straight, shoulder length brown hair. Her blouse was plain red and she wore checkered black pants. She started the roll call.

"Briefs, Trunks? She looked up expectantly. He muttered "here" so silently that he thought she didn't hear him. He waited for the inevitable question. . . one, two, three- "Any relation to Bulma Briefs?" Yep. Right on cue.

"Yeah. She's my mom," He waited for the reaction. Each year it was somewhat different, depending on what new batch of kids had transferred. All the heads turned, not believing the son of one of the richest women on the continent was in their midst. _Yeah, I'm the future president of the world's leading business. Oh happy day. _

"She's hot," the stoned-looking punk with greasy hair commented nonchalantly. A few kids snorted. Trunks let his head fall onto the top of his desk with a dull thud._ Only 180 more days to go._

"OK class, let's continue with roll call," The teacher (whatever the hfil her name was) commanded. Some kids were still snorting and sniggering.

He just hoped this wasn't a premonition to what the rest of the year would hold in store.

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A/N: Bad, Good, Ok? Too short? Too OOC? Till next time I guess. Peace out!


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